White Christmas
by PinkRangerV
Summary: “I’m sorry, Mama. So sorry.” I bow my head. “Your son isn’t a hero.” A Christmas visit to a grave reveals more than Anton knew about his son. Probably AU. Krentish.
1. Chapter 1

A\N: I hate Christmas. So, since my beta got swamped and hasn't given my my fic back, I'll write this instead. :)

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TRENT

I'm with the original Scrooge on this one: Christmas-lovers should be boiled in their own plum pudding and buried with a stake of holly in their heart. I mean, come on. Have you ever heard the country version of the Little Drummer Boy? I already feel like shooting myself. The torture is unneeded, thank you.

I feel the snow tugging at my skin. I wish I had a jacket. Wish I were brave enough to go home when I don't know if my dad's there. Maybe he wouldn't be. Maybe I could stretch out on the couch and watch TV again. I haven't watched TV in a month. At least. I don't remember. Christmas would be nice if I could be inside.

I wind up in the cemetary again. Like always. Why do I keep torturing myself like this? I look over the graves, then shake my head. Might as well hang out here. It's winter break. Where else am I going to go? Not Haley's, she pretty much kicked me out, said I needed to hang out with my freinds. Not school. And definitly not Kira's. I'm sure her father thinks I'm a stalker after she let me camp out on her floor once.

I laugh bitterly, looking around. It's fitting, the snow a blanket over the bare land, bare trees jutting out into the sky, and me. The only human being on the planet. Which is how it would have turned out, once upon a time. Would that have been better? I don't know.

I kneel in front of my mother's headstone. "Hi, Mama." I say softly in Spanish. The Spanish I don't dare speak in front of Connor anymore, not after that is-that-a-secret-code-oh-you're-a-beaner fiasco. "I don't have flowers for you. I'm sorry. I guess you noticed I haven't had flowers for a while." I smile humorlessly. "Everyone notices. No one adds it up. No one notices me, just my lack of respect for the dead."

I shut my eyes in pain. "It's Christmas." I whisper. "I won't celebrate with tamales or Mass or my family. I'll listen to horrible screeching blared at me everywhere and see Nativity scenes without Bebe Jesus and be locked out in the snow." I feel tears starting to fall. "Connor went Christmas shopping for his Mama. He talked about it like it was such a pain. Dios, Mama, this isn't Christmas. Not...not without my family."

I laugh a little. "I can almost hear you asking, Isn't Anton your family now, that nice Mr. Mercer who gave me a job? No, Mama. Sorry. He hates me." I let my voice drop to a whisper. "I have a secret, Mama. And it's Christmas, so no one can hear me. I'm the White Ranger." I speak normally again, praying, pleading, please God take this pain from me. "I was turned evil, Mama. I fought Zeltrax constantly, and Mesegog tortured me when he found out. I spent my entire day spying on the other Rangers and planning to kill them. I stalked Kira for a while, and then I...I ran away, Mama, and then I came back."

I can't feel anything now. My tears freeze as they hit the snow. "They said they saved me, Mama. Saved me from Mesegog. They don't realize they killed me." I shake my head. I can't cry. I can't afford to feel. "Dad is Mesegog. Dad did that to me, Dad turned me evil, Dad tortured me. Nice Anton Mercer who gave you a job nearly murdered your son. And now I can't even go home and watch TV because if I do he'll kill me for not being evil."

I shut my eyes again, not from pain this time. There's nothing to feel. "I've been living outside for...I think a month now. A month, two? I don't know. It doesn't add up because I can't sleep any more. If I sleep someone might hurt me. I don't want to be hurt any more, Mama. I want to go back." I smile through the tears. "If I could have one Christmas wish," I whisper, "It would be to go back. Back to us. Back to having a family, and never grow up, live the same day forever. I'd take that, like in those TV shows where a kid wants it to be Christmas all the time. Because I'd have you, Mama, and I'd have Papa."

I stop talking, then whisper, "I'm sorry. Mama, I'm so sorry." I bow my head. "Your son isn't a hero." I confess. "Your son isn't an artist or a genius or doing good to help the world. Your son is killing himself so the rest of the world can live. I'm sorry." The snow hurts, and I can't think of anything else to say.

Does it matter? Does talking to a headstone help at all? Because it's never helped before. It's just a stone, and vibrations in the air. That's all. And when I've talked to Mama and Papa, it hurts even more. I don't have them. I'll never have them again. And all our lives were torn up by their stupid job. They were buried away from the family because it was cheaper to leave them in Reefside where they died. Their son nearly died because of the man who gave them that job.

Someone should change the past. Someone should rewrite it so that one boy doesn't have to take the weight of the world on his shoulders. Someone should make sure that the Christmas story doesn't repeat itself, that the world doesn't need another sacrifical lamb.

This isn't right.

"Trent?"

I leap to my feet, whirling. How much of that did this guy here? Oh, no. Oh, Dios y Jesus, no. Not Anton. Please not Dad. I don't want to run away again, I don't want to have to fight, I want to be left alone to die.

"Trent..." Anton walks forward. "It's okay. Just me, son." He looks shocked. You heard, didn't you? And now you understand exactly what you've done to me, exactly why I come here all the time. Exactly why I never speak to you, go out of my way to avoid you.

"I'm sorry." Anton says quietly. "Trent, I'm so sorry for this."

I want to scream. I want to tear him apart. I want him to feel every minute of the pain I've felt. I want him to die for me, so I can be a normal boy again. But I can't move, can't do anything but keep the tears out of my eyes and struggle not to kill him.

"Trent?" Anton asks hesitantly. That breaks me again. I'm cold, flawless, perfect, deadly. An ice boy.

I walk away.

When I die, it won't be at his hands. At least I can spare him that. Merry Christmas, Dad. Hope you like your present.

It's the last present I'll be able to give you.


	2. Chapter 2

A\N: Thank ditena. She convinced me to continue. Enjoy, folks! And digital cookies for all my reveiwers!

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I try to ignore my arms. The pain is good, but I need to think. It's freezing cold, Christmas, and I really want to forget how much I want to go home. How much I want to go back in time, to have hugged Dad so tightly and never let him go, not like I let Papa and Mama go to work that day. Never let him hurt me or anyone else again.

I stop my thoughts. I don't want to cry. I've cried enough today.

I look at the lights. Reefside really goes all-out for Christmas, lights everywhere, sparkling like stars against the cold night sky. I lean against a tree and try to look tough enough to not be watching Christmas lights. I mean, how lame is that? Dios y Jesus, I just want to be inside. Why do I torture myself like this?

I trace a line on the inside of my wrist. I wonder if it would hurt to end the torture. Could I kill myself? Would I dare? Could the others handle fighting without me? Dad's going to find me again, and what if he can't stop Mesegog? Could he kill me? I won't do that to him, I can't. I love him too much, love him for taking me in and raising me when no one else would, for trying to stop the monster in him and for being strong enough not to kill himself to get rid of it.

I should kill myself.

I see Kira's face again. The time she looked up at me with a smile from some project she was working on. The time she lay on the ground at my feet, waiting for a death blow. The time she saw my most precious drawings, the ones of the White Ranger.

I want to live for her.

I head to the park. It's quiet there. I can think a little. And no one really goes there. There's even a few lights strung on some trees.

I climb to the top of the jungle gym. Once I thought it was the coolest thing in the world to make it to the top. Now I just think it's an acheivement to not hurl myself off it, to hurt myself so badly I can stop feeling this pain for a while.

I look at my wrists. The morpher sparkles on one, the moon shining on it. The damned thing that ruined my life, that broke me. My other wrist is bare. I wonder if the edge of the morpher is sharp enough to cut with? To kill myself with? Wouldn't that be ironic, the same thing that killed my soul is killing my body. I don't care if it is a sin, I'm tired of this. I don't want to be the sacrifice any more. Make Connor the sacrifice. He can just laugh his way through it.

"Trent?" I jump, then recognize Dr. O. "What are you thinking?" He asks.

"That I want to kill myself." Why lie? It's Christmas. The birthday of Jesus, the doomed boy. It's sadder than people think, because really, everyone put their troubles on one child's shoulders. And no one can take it. Jesus must have been so glad to die.

"You shouldn't."

"You could handle the monsters without me." I point out. He probably doesn't care, but he'd lose his job if someone knew he'd let me kill myself. It's okay, Dr. O. I won't tell anyone you didn't care. I'll be dead.

"That doesn't mean we don't need you around." Dr. O says. He leans against the jungle gym. "I thought you might be out looking at the lights. Your dad said you were upset about Christmas." I'll bet.

"Not Christmas."

Dr. O hesitates, then asks, "Why aren't you at home, Trent? It's ten at night."

"I can't go home." I explain, the same lie I told Kira and Ethan, once he noticed. "My dad and I had a fight."

"He sounded like he wanted you to come home."

I nearly punch Dr. O right then. This is hell. Pure hell. Everywhere I turn, death beckons, wrapped in the illusion of safety. Just come home, back into the light, fall asleep in a bed for a change, then wake up either in Mesegog's brainwashing room or Heaven.

"I won't do that to him." I mutter.

"Won't do what, Trent?" Dr. O asks. Oh, damn. You weren't supposed to hear that, Dr. O. "Trent...look, I know it's hard. I know you feel like Connor hates you, and you were taught to hate the rest of us for months. But you can trust me. Please, Trent. You're a good freind and a great person. Let me help you."

"You really think that?" I ask quietly.

Dr. O nods. "Your dad does too." He says.

Mesegog doesn't. And Mesegog has my dad. "I promised him I wouldn't tell you." I explain. "I'm sorry. I know you're gonna hate me when you find out. But I can't...I can't hurt him, Dr. O. He's my dad."

"I don't think you'd hurt him." Dr. O says quietly. "I think, whatever it is, you'd be helping, because I know your father doesn't want you to hurt yourself, Trent. And I know monsters didn't do this." He touches my wrist, bright red and dented from where my nails pressed into it.

"My father's Mesegog."

Dr. O doesn't say anything and I sigh. Of course. He doesn't believe me. "He got caught in some weird experiment and merged with the guy, okay?" I tell him. "I told you. You hate me now."

Dr. O shakes his head. "Trent, I do not hate you." He says quietly.

I laugh bitterly. "Funny."

"I don't."

I watch him for the lie. Wait for him to laugh at me or yell or something. But he says, calmly, "I wondered how he got out of that experiment. I should have seen that coming. And I'm sorry I didn't, for your sake." He pauses. "How long have you known?"

"Since I was evil." I smile humorlessly, looking out at the night sky. "Been on my own since you turned me good."

Dr. O reaches up and takes my hand. "I'm sorry." He says quietly. "I'm sorry this happened, Trent. I wish you'd been able to trust me enough to talk to me about it."

"Me too." I say, as much to the stars as to him.

"Come on. You shouldn't be out here so late." Dr. O says. "You can come stay with me tonight. We'll work out what to do tomorrow, okay?"

I nod, sliding down. "Thanks." I say, quietly.

Maybe...maybe Christmas isn't too bad.


End file.
